Oneta 84


This is my third day without a post.  So I’m sitting here trying to think what to post. I’m considering confessing all my faults and failures, but after I tell you about both of them, I don’t know what to say.  😀


Picture below has absolutely nothing to do with this blog but It is so cute I can’t resist.  One of my great-grans a few years ago.  And she does sometimes think I’m funny.  

ash secret

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(Given the current Bloomberg dust up, the following re-post seems timely.  With thanks and appreciation to my daddy/farmer.  In the picture are some of my daddy’s brothers. The near one on the right looks like daddy, but my daddy had passed when this was taken.  Good men.  Much of what has blessed my life.)

Known for being a part of the Dust Bowl history of the 1930’s—sometimes called the Dirty Thirty’s—my home in Southeastern Colorado in the 1940’s had changed considerably.  Roosevelt’s programs, the WPA and the CCC, had made improvements in land conservation.  Also farmers had learned new methods to care for their fields with the benefit of the modern equipment of those days.  So by my twelfth year, I was bothered little by dust bowls which were rather rare by that time.

Of course. that was good news.  Bad news – there was  still little rain.  No irrigation for us.  Little, if any, for neighbors.  Daddy planted crops, and looked to the sky in hopeful faith that the rain would come in time to save the seeds and give them the moisture to sprout into life.  And the rain would come.  Often gully washers.  Replanting.  Looking.  Praying.  All over again.

But I never remember a crop failure.  Did we have them?  I don’t know, daddy was no whiner.  Farmers didn’t whine.  We were “carried” by the bank until harvest time.  Bankers didn’t whine.  The grocer kept a separate statement for most of the farmers.  They would be paid twice a year.  Once when the crops were sold; once when the steers were sold.  But the grocers didn’t whine.  Men were as good as their word.  If disaster struck, all would go down together.  But disaster didn’t strike.  Instead prosperity came.

So I am left with memories.  Walking to school.  Picking prairie flowers.  Watching the crops grow.  Gathering hens’ eggs.  Reading library books.  Sunday and Wednesday church.  Two week revivals.  Entering spelling bees.  Churning butter.  Fried chicken.  Baby sister.  Extended family. Health.  Security.  Love.  Jesus.  Looking back, I wonder, “Was life really that good?”  I guess I’ll never know.

You see, Daddy was no whiner.

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Oneta 84

Most of you know I’m pretty “churchy,” and I am quite traditional about it. After a reading of Psalms 26 and 27, I am again reminded of how delighted I am to be able to go to the “house of the Lord.”

Now my peeve. You expected one, huh? Does your “church” still have their worship experience in the sanctuary or has it become an auditorium? Remember signs pointing to the sanctuary or the sanctuary choir singing, or a sanctuary Sunday School class.? The Bible refers to sanctuary over 250 times. I especially like 1 Chron. 28:10, David’s words to Solomon, “…for the Lord has chosen you to build a house as the sanctuary.” Sanctuary = refuge, shelter, place of safety.

Actually the Bible does refer to auditorium one time (Acts 25:23) where Festus, Agrippa, Bernice, and military officers brought Paul, more or less to call him on the carpet. Auditorium = lecture theater.

Am I dwelling in minutia? Does it matter? It must. Else wise, why the change?

Sometimes blessed things happen in an auditorium. We had my daddy’s funeral in the school auditorium because our church sanctuary would not hold the expected audience. It was needed; however, I still remember it as big and cold.

I hope to be memorialized in a sanctuary not an auditorium. Other word changes that are interesting:  memorial rather than funeral; worship experience rather than service; small group events rather than classes.

But I believe these word changes distance us from the holiness of God’s hour.  Time will change that; perhaps it already has.  I guess it is easier to sell books and drink coffee in an auditorium than a sanctuary.  And “sanctuary” beacons one to kneel at the altar or at his seat when entering.  Easier to talk in an auditorium.

If I don’t close this my head may soon be on a platter rather than my having it on straight!  


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Oneta wo accessory

I have a new accessory;

They say it’s a necessity.

I wish it were a bracelet or a purse.

I guess it could be something worse.

But I don’t like it, not one little bit.

I prefer music and puppies or even English lit.

Lots of variety in life I love.

Kitties and kites, and ducks and doves.

I love Jesus and people, and country and kings

Necklaces, shoes, baby goats, and rings.

BUT a plastic tube with two “pokkies”up my nose?

Supposed to make it easier to send blood to my toes!

My kids act like I have no voice,

Saying, “You’re gonna do it.  You have no choice.

And much as I nag, kick, and seethe,

I really do like to breathe.

So I asked the doctor, “Do I really have to?”

She said, “No, but you’ll live longer if you do.”

So as much as I hear the joys of Heaven beckon

I’ll choose to stay here a bit longer, I reckon.


Oneta w accessory

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letter to Pete by Sam      How about that three cent stamp!  This was the letter Sammy wrote my parents in 1953.

Letterhead was Southwestern Bible College in Oklahoma City.  Dated April 10, 1953:

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Rodgers,

          Oneta and I are settling down once again to school routine, and everything here at the City is just fine.

          I enjoyed the short stay and sweet fellowship at your home Easter.  

          You have a beautiful daughter, Mr. Rodgers.  She is the sweetest girl in the world.  I don’t see how I have lived this far without her and I love her with all my heart, to the extent that I have asked her to marry me.  She has said Yes, but I would like to have your consent also. Of course it will be some time yet before we are able to get married as I have certain obligations to fulfill and straighten out first.  I promise you I will always look after Oneta and make her happy and love her as Christ loved the church.  Pray for me and write soon. 

Yours truly,  Samuel Hayes


wedding 3

Married July 5, 1953.

                                      MY VALENTINE 


Posted in letters, long marriage, marriage, me, memories, nostalgia, Uncategorized, Valentine Day, youth | Tagged , , , , , , | Leave a comment


icy patio

I thought I was humoring kids when we prayed for their pets, until one morning …..


I glanced out the icy window,  I must find Buttons.   I had looked until it got too dark.    He’ll be so cold.  I bundled for the cold car.

Headed out, but what direction?  Feeling a bit foolish, I prayed “God help me.”  I turned west, then north, then east— a woman was opening her garage door.

“Have you seen a puppy?”  I called.

“A little brown and black shih tzu?  We put him in the yard last night to keep him safe.”

Answered prayer?  Coincidence?


(True story about the lost and found puppy, except the day wasn’t icy.   I have learned one can pray for their pet.  Amazingly God sometimes answers in awesome ways. :D)


PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

FRIDAY FICTIONEERS –  100 word story from picture prompt hosted by





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Isaiah 26: This chapter includes scriptures most church goers have heard over and over, V. 3, 7, 9. However, I have never heard Verse 18 commented on, “We were with child; we writhed in pain, but we gave birth to the wind. We have not brought salvation to the earth; we have not given birth to people of the world.”

Two possible scenarios. I have befriended two people for quite some time. Finally each goes to church with me.

Church Y: Person A is with me. We have a roaring good time with praise and worship. My friend stands respectfully, tries to look pleasant, and decides we have a mighty nice bunch of people. We seem to love God and to not have oodles of problems. The preacher acknowledges that we have problems but we are “one-in-love” working them out. Person A holds up her hand that she would like to be a Christian, have her sins forgiven and be back next week.

Church Z: Person B is with me. We sing I Love to Tell the Story, The Way of the Cross Leads Home, Such Love, and Grace Greater Than Our Sin. Preacher preaches that you become a new creature upon accepting Jesus, old things have passed away and all things become new. A church friend gives her a hug and asks her to come back. She goes away, saying she needs more time. Time to decide if she really wants old things to pass away…


I have a feeling Person A has no idea of what being a Christian means. Is she only being deceived? I really feel for Person B, but I don’t know how to “close the sale?”  I don’t know how to bring her to birth.

Too many churches are giving birth to the wind.  We know the truth but do not know how to seal the deal.


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six word


Closed mind is dark as night.


Challenge was to use “night” as a prompt for six word story.

Shweta does an excellent job keeping us together.  Please join the fun.  Instructions and rules are at


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Being a follower of Christ is wonderful.  Having your sins forgiven is amazing.  Experiencing the grace which gives you eternal life is abundantly satisfying.

But knowing God entails more than a Sunday Morning Hour.

God tells us repeatedly to seek him.

So I suggest the following steps to “find” Him.

MAKE A CHOICE: Psalm 27;8-9;



FORSAKE SIN: Psalm 119:2-5;

BE “WITH” HIM: II Chron. 15:2;

HAVE FAITH: Heb. 11:6;

PERSEVERE: Heb. 11:6;

CULTIVATE HUMILITY: Psalm 69:32 (poor);  Dan. 9:3 (sackcloth and ashes)


RENDER SERVICE: I Chron. 28:9;

REJOICE: I Chron. 16:10;



PRAY: Dan. 9:3a;

FAST: Dan. 9:3b




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Claire checked the note again.  Number four from bottom on right. Long hair.  Her name is Chantay.

Holding back tears, Claire smiled.  The parents had kept the name Claire had given the two-hour-old baby with Claire’s DNA.  The baby had a lusty but tender cry.

Claire remembered making a note on the back of the legal papers,  “Please name the baby Chantay.  It means singer.  May her life be a song to you.”

A smile marked Claire’s pleasure as she slipped into the auditorium and watched as Chantay’s choir group won the State Vocal Championship.


PHOTO PROMPT © Ulrika Undén

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